


|Partners In Crime|

by WintersRomanianPrince



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, How Do I Tag, M/M, Mild Gore, Murder, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Why Did I Write This?, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2019-11-26 03:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18175283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WintersRomanianPrince/pseuds/WintersRomanianPrince
Summary: Since when do I summarize when I first post?? Just look at the tags and figure it out till I actually summarize this please-





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So this was an AU idea my lovely friend and I discussed forever ago and I finally decided to start posting what I wrote. Sorry if it isn't the best, I'm still relatively new to writing.

 

 

"Hey, Steve, remember we have a meeting Monday," Natasha, one of his co-workers, said as she passed by.

"Yes, ma'am I won't forget," he replied, flashing her a quick smile. It didn't stay long, however, immediately going away once the woman was out of sight.

He finished packing things away, setting the boxes inside the storage room of the shop, before checking his pockets for his phone and keys. When the blonde felt them still tucked snuggly within his pockets he made his way out the front entrance and into his car. Starting it up, Steve backed out the parking lot and onto the road, beginning his drive home.

It took quite a bit for Steve to get back home. He lived a good ways out the city where there was less people; really wasn't anyone around him at all. His home was tucked away within a small area of woodlands. It was originally a camp spot his father owned, but he passed ages ago, as did Steve's mother.

After the trauma of losing both parents at the young age 17, the blonde decided to move into the cabin, not feeling the want or need to be around people. No one liked him anyways. The only one who ever did was his mother and she was gone. The only person who ever brought him joy had been taken away.

Steve wanted to seclude himself from the annoyance that was today's humanity. Everyone was so rude and full of themselves. People having far bigger egos than they should, treating others like they were nothing. Many also wasting away their wonderful, privileged lives with drugs, alcohol, tons whoring themselves out for a quick buck. Steve wanted nothing to do with what, in his words, was such a _disgusting_ society.

It drove him insane when he saw people, especially children, taking what they had for granted, treating everything with such little value. If Steve had half of what others had at that age he would have been over the moon, filled with a deep joy and appreciation.

Nowadays, Steve can't remember the last time he felt joy.... or rather felt it from something 'normal' if you will.

He had found something that brought him a small sense of joy after so many years of not having it and there was no way in Hell he was giving it up. The blonde knew it was seen as strange and immoral, but he didn't care. Didn't care what was thought of as right or wrong anymore; today's society had completely lost a sense of morality anyways.

His childhood had been filled with harsh treatment, terrible upbringings entirely. So even if he _knew_ it was wrong, he didn't care.

No one else cared when they acted wickedly. So why should he?

Speaking of which, he should go out and have some fun, feel a bit of that joy.

 

When Steve got home, he parked the car, being sure to lock it, before making his way inside, double checking he locked the front door behind him as well.

The blonde made his way to the bedroom. He dug around his drawers a moment before pulling out a pair of navy blue boxers, some dark burgundy jeans, and a white t-shirt. Taking the clothing, Steve padded off to the bathroom. He neatly set his outfit on the countertop next to the sink before walking over and turning on the shower, making sure to set it to his preferred temperature. While waiting for the water to heat up, Steve moves to the sink area once more, bending down to pull a towel out the cabinet and throwing it over the top of the shower curtain pole.

Steve went to yank off his hoodie, but stopped himself. He quickly pulled the switchblade knife out the front pocket, setting it on the edge of the tub, remembering to take off his glasses and set them on the counter, as well. Pocket now empty, he pulled the hoodie over his head and tossed it in the laundry basket he had nearby. The rest of his clothing followed suit, his shirt getting pulled off next then his jeans and boxers. All of it getting thrown into the basket right after.

Now stripped of his work clothes, Steve hopped into the shower and let the hot water run over his small, thin body. Enjoying the sting from it on his skin, feeling his tense body slowly relax.

Steve made his shower quick, not wanting to waste too much time just sitting under the spray of water like he usually did. The blonde was ready to go out.

He scrubbed down his body with the lavender scented body wash before moving to work on his hair, lathering the short blonde locks with the rose scented shampoo, using his fingertips to gently scratch his scalp as he did so.

He quickly rinsed off the soap before getting out the shower. After drying off both his body and hair, Steve threw the towel aside and slipped on his boxers.

Plugging in the hairdryer, he turned it on and began to finish drying the mess of still lightly damp blonde locks on his head. When his hair was dry, Steve grabbed a brush to try and fix the tangled mess it now was.

When the tangles were all brushed out, he grabbed his chosen outfit and slipped it on. Steve put his glasses on before turning back to the mirror, looking himself over, adjusting his clothes and hair as needed.

When Steve was happy with how he looked, he grabbed the switchblade again, sliding it into his front pocket as he exited the bathroom.

Going back to the bedroom, Steve slipped on a pair of red converse and grabbed his phone, wallet and keys, shoving them into his pockets once more. He quickly checked the time; it was now 7:23pm.

'It's late enough, I suppose' he thought making his way out the cabin and once again back into the car.

 

* * *

 

Steve parked and hopped out the car. He made his way to the entrance of the bar, but was stopped. The blonde rolled his eyes, letting out a huff, as the man proceeded to say the same old thing he heard everywhere else.

"No minors allowed," the man spoke in a matter of fact tone as he put his hand out, pushing Steve back harsher than needed.

That got Steve bad, the pushing. He wasn't one for physical contact in the first place, let alone getting shoved around by some gross, sweaty brute.

Face set with a scowl, he looked up at the bigger man as he reached into his pocket. Steve yanked out his wallet, pulling his ID out and handing it to the man.

His eyes scanned over it, checking if it was real. When he saw it had Steve's face and said 'age: 21' across it, the man gave it back sighing, moving to let the blonde inside like it was the biggest struggle in the universe.

Walking in, he put the ID back in the wallet, shoving it back into his pocket. His eyes scanned across the bar as he walked, the scent of sweat and alcohol filling his nose, the sight of men and women alike drinking and basically fucking all over. It always made him gag when he walked into these places; it was so disgusting. It was everything Steve hated.

But it was the easiest way to get what he wanted.

 _'Do they ever clean this shit hole?!'_ Steve thought, already annoyed as he continued strolling around.

He decided to sit on one of the black barstools, eyes still scanning across the bar, looking over each person as best he could.

As he was looking around he caught the gaze of one man who was leaning against the wall on the other side of the room. Steve shot him a quick smile, adding a wink with it, before turning to the bartender and ordering a drink, more for looks than for enjoyment. He sat there for a while, sipping on the horrid drink he'd been given, wondering _how_ _they could make something so disgusting_.

 

Eventually he turned around to see if the man was still there.

When Steve spotted him making his way across the room he smiled to himself, turning back around.

He sat there, waiting, until he noticed someone sitting next to him out the corner of his eye. Smile plastered on once more, Steve turned and, sure enough, it was the same guy he'd seen earlier.

Steve did the usual; talked the guy up, threw in a few flirty comments, taking the drinks he was given all the while keeping his expression innocent and sweet.

"So, you maybe wanna get out of here, pretty boy? Sure I could show you a nice time," the stranger asked suddenly, lips curving into a smirk.

Despite how much the petname made him cringe, Steve still had to repress the satisfied grin that wanted to sneak onto his face when that sentence left the stranger's mouth.

_Oh, this poor man had no idea what he was getting into._

Keeping the same, sweet expression, Steve gave him the best shy nod he could, which must've been quite on point judging by the way the other's smirk grew.

"Yours or mine?" The man questioned.

"Mine," Steve replied quietly as he stood, the other following suit.

The two quickly made their way out the bar and into Steve's car, the blonde speeding off towards his house.

 

Steve had made it to the woodlands area the cabin was located in when the stranger suddenly spoke up.

"Wait, do you live in _here_?" He asked, giving Steve a weird look.

"I have a gas leak at my actual house so I'm staying in a little cabin out here for now," the blonde lied easily, even adding a nervous tone as he turned to give a worried face, "Is it a problem?"

The stranger immediately responded at the sight of Steve's worry filled expression, "No, it's fine! Just kinda threw me off, is all," he replied with a chuckle.

At that, Steve changed his expression. Forced a huge smile onto his face as he continued down the dirt path past the trees until they reached a small clearing where the cabin was sat.

Steve parked and got out, the man following his movements, and they made their way up to the front door.

The blonde nearly snapped when the guy started pressing up against him, his hands moving to grip Steve's waist as he tried to unlock the door, leaving kisses along his skin that made Steve internally cringe.

Once it finally was unlocked, Steve stumbled into the house, getting out of his grip. When the man tried to latch onto him again, Steve stopped him. He placed his hand on the man's chest and gently pushed him till he was sat on the sofa.

"I'm gonna get a drink, you want one?" The smaller asked, innocent look still plastered on his face as he moved his hand away.

"Sure, I guess, don't really care what it is," he replied looking a little confused at the blonde. I mean he did come here for a quick booty call, not to be served drinks, so Steve couldn't blame him for being confused.

He just shot the stranger a grin before walking into the kitchen.

He pulled out two glasses and set them on the counter. The blonde rumaged around, grabbing a random bottle of alcohol he had and pouring it into each cup. Closing the bottle, he set it down before opening up a nearby drawer.

He scanned the many small bottles within it, deciding to grab the usual one. As quiet as possible, Steve opened the bottle and poured 8 blue pills into his palm. He tossed them in one of the glasses, putting the bottle away, and making his way back to the other.

"Here ya go," Steve said as he handed over the drink in his left hand, reluctantly sitting his tiny body on the man's lap to try and keep this charade up.

He watched as the man chugged down the drink, setting the now empty cup down on the dark wood coffee table.

 

Five minutes later, the man was out. Thankfully, he barely did anything to Steve; left a couple gross, sloppy kisses along his neck and rucked up his shirt. That was about all the blonde let happen as he waited.

Steve got off the unconscious man's lap, wiping his neck with the fabric of his shirt, a look of pure disgust on his face.

The blonde made his way to the bedroom and kneeled next to his bed, reaching underneath to pull out a black bag. Standing up with the bag, Steve made his way back to the stranger.

"Welp," he said to himself, mouth pulled up into the first genuine smile he's had all night, "time to get to work."

 

Two hours later Steve is in the kitchen, cutting meat and wrapping it up before storing it in the freezer.

The man now gone.

 _Forever_.

When Steve's done with the meat, he thoroughly wipes down the counter, making sure to get any of the blood that may have splattered around while he was working, before going to clean up the bathroom.

Kneeling in front of the tub, Steve grabs the bleach and sprays it all over the black acrylic before scrubbing vigorously. He rinses it out afterwards, watching as the bleach and crimson liquid washes down the drain, little bits of flesh and meat and bone following along with. When Steve decides it's clean enough, he stands and pulls off his gloves, tossing them in the trash.

The blonde undoes the straps of his black, blood-covered apron, slipping it off as he walks to the small laundry room. Giving the stained areas a spray of peroxide before tossing it into the washer along with whatever else needed to be cleaned.

After changing into a pair of grey joggers and a loose navy blue t-shirt Steve goes and plops down on the sofa. He adjusts the black rimmed glasses set on the bridge of his nose as he picks up a book off the coffee table and opens it, continuing where he left off the other night.

 

* * *

 

It's now been about two and a half weeks since Steve's last little 'playdate' (as he sometimes called it) and he was getting antsy for another one; was itching for another moment where he could have that same fun again. Could carve into someone and watch as the muscle and tissue was sliced so delicately by his own hands. Wanted to see the satisfying sight of the knife cutting so precisely into the body as that lovely iron scent filled his senses, watching the dark, crimson blood as it drained out the lifeless body.

Steve had been thinking over the idea of just going find another idiot at the bar, but decided against it, not really having the energy to go through all the trouble it took.

He continued thinking how he could get a new target, eventually deciding on just finding a random home to sneak into. It was the only appealing option right now.

So that's exactly what Steve did.

That night after he got home from work, he relaxed a bit while trying to think of how to go about his new plans.

It's been a while since the blonde's just gone out and killed this way so he was a bit out of practice, if you will.

He does figure it out, though. Decides what he'll need for his mission and then gets to work making sure he has it all together.

 

Four hours later, now around 10pm, Steve is getting dressed in a worn, dark grey hoodie and a pair of black jeans, switchblade being slid into the hoodie pocket like always. Slipping on his shoes, Steve grabs the black bag filled with the necessary tools and heads off.

Steve decides to leave his car in a random parking lot and then head off to find his victim. This would make tracing his car harder and his clothes made him basically blend into the dark of the night so he wouldn't be seen as easily.

He grabs the bag and begins walking down the nearby streets, trying to decide what house would be good.

A house about halfway down the road on the left seems like the best option so he decides it's the one.

There was a single motorcycle parked outside, the building itself looking on the rough side; dirty, old, badly in need of a paint job, new set of steps definitely. If there wasn't a vehicle outside, Steve would've thought it abandoned.

Sucking in a quick breath, Steve carefully makes his way up the broken steps and up to the door. Before pulling out a lockpick, Steve decides to just try it first.

His face gained a shocked look as it turned easily, door opening up just like that.

 _'That's just asking for crime'_ Steve thinks to himself as he slowly walks inside.

It's completely dark so Steve runs his hand along the wall, trying to find the lightswitch. When his fingers graze one he flicks it up, watching the light turn on. The sad thing barely even lit up the room, flickering out here and there. Walking fully inside, the blonde scans the dimly lit room, cringing at the sight.

It was an _absolute disaster._

The room was covered in random bits of clothing, dust everywhere, the carpeted flooring splattered with stains never properly cleaned. Hell, even the torn up, grey couch had some along it!!

 _'Has this person ever cleaned in their life?!'_ Steve wondered as he quietly made his way further into the small home, continuing to scan the surroundings as he did.

Steve took a quick peek down the hallway, making sure no lights were on. Seeing none, he went to walk down and find where the person was. He had suddenly stopped himself, however, as an all too familiar scent flooded his nostrils.

The blonde turned around and made his way towards the kitchen, the smell getting stronger the closer he got. He flicked on the light, watching as it lit up the room. His eyes nearly popped out his head when he saw it, though probably not for the right reason.

In front of Steve was half of a dead body thrown on top a small wooden table sat in the corner of the disgusting kitchen. Blood was splattered along the surface and all around the floor, a few knives scattered around the room as well.

That isn't what catches Steve's attention, though. No, no.

The blonde is far more concerned with the disaster this person's kitchen is than the corpse in front of him.

It was the worst part of the home in Steve's opinion and something needed to be done about it.

Fuming, Steve tossed his bag down on the counter before going to look around for any type of cleaning supplies. There is no way he's going to go work knowing this place looked like such a shithole.

So now, here Steve was; grumbling to himself as he furiously scrubbed down every surface in some random person's dirty, bloody kitchen. The body still not even crossing his mind.

Little did Steve know, though, the clunk of his bag hitting the counter added with the ranting had woken up a certain brunette who was currently making his way to see what was causing all the commotion.

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky was pulled out of his sleep by a loud slam. He glanced around, sleepy brain trying to figure out what it was. He knew it wasn't a friend stopping by because he didn't have those. Taking another listen the brunette could hear the faint sound of a voice so his idea of it being an animal was also thrown out the window.

Now awake and alert, he slowly got up from bed, trying to be as silent as possible. Walking towards the door, he picked up the small knife that was always kept nearby before opening the door, thanking every God above that the old thing didn't squeak.

Bucky made his way down the hall, slow and careful, trying to stay quiet in hopes of catching the intruder by surprise. He always enjoyed that; the sight of someone so horrified and shocked when they see him, knowing exactly what was going to happen. They always knew from that one look that it was the last thing they'd see, he could see it in their eyes; could see that pure fear.

And Bucky _loved_ it.

God, just thinking about it sent an excited shiver through him, made his lips curl into a grin.

Reaching the end of the hallway, Bucky glanced around, searching for the dumbass who decided to break into his home.

When there was no one in the living room he decided to go check out the kitchen.

And sure enough there said dumbass was.

Now normally Bucky would just walk up and stab without question, but what he saw entering the room had him in pure shock.

There was some tiny blonde kid..... _scrubbing the blood off his floor._

_'There was a dead body and he was cleaning? Is this guy sane??'_

Bucky was a little thrown off, didn't really know what to do. He just stood there listening to the kid grumble to himself as he cleaned, an amused smile suddenly creeping onto his face as he did.

"Disgusting guy just leaving this shit wherever, no wonder there's so many stains." Steve muttered, stopping for a moment to rest his arms.

"Sorry, if I'd known you were comin' I would'a tidied up a bit." He responded sarcastically, finally making his presence known to the other.

The blond's head shot up, a look of surprise flashing for a moment before being replaced with a glare.

"You," he mumbled as he stood, "Your cleaning skills are fucking horrid!!" The smaller ( _much_ smaller, if Bucky might add) man shouted. "How old are these stains?? Weeks?? _Months?!?!_ You can hire someone for this if you don't wanna do it yourself, y'know!!"

Bucky stood stunned, trying to process what was happening.

_'Am I seriously getting lectured by **some fucking twink** on my cleaning skills....when there's a **dead body** on my goddamn table? Does this kid have any sense of self preservation?!?'_

 


	2. Chapter Two

  
After Steve and Bucky's strange encounter, along with a lecture from Steve about the proper way to clean up blood (plus an explanation about the body), the blonde left; both promising not to out the other to the authorities and simply going about their way.

They didn't see each other for a while after that and honestly Steve was hoping to not see him ever again; it would be problematic, in his opinion.

Steve soon decided to just push the incident out his mind, acting like it didn't happen. He was a bit more cautious at first, however; stayed home a few days, worried he'd be ratted out despite being promised silence. Steve also stayed home just in case there was any chance of running into the brunette. He'd pray for it not to happen if he were a religious man.

What would he even say if they did run into each other?

'Oh yeah, you're that cannibal I tried to kill! Remember me?'

That obviously sounds completely insane.

The best thing would be to ignore the guy and never see or talk him again. So that's what Steve will do.

 

Sadly, the universe was not on Steve Rogers' side this round.

  
Fast forward a month later; Steve is sat at another local bar trying to find some new idiot to bring home. No one was catching his eye, though.

That is until his gaze landed on a familiar brunette walking towards the bar, his eyes casted down at the phone in his hands.

He absentmindly sits at one of the stools not far from Steve. The blonde turned and pulled his beanie further down over his head, quickly putting his glasses back on, as a desperate attempt to try and hide himself. Honestly, Steve was debating on just leaving entirely. He did not want to speak to the other.

His attempts sadly don't work, however, because the guys tilts his head up and notices Steve. Those grey eyes looking at him curiously as he suddenly stands up and moves to plop himself in the seat next to him.

Letting out a quiet sigh, the blonde turns to look at him.

"Oh hey, didn't expect to see you here," he says quietly, trying his best to give a smile before turning back to his drink.

"Same to you, punk," he replied as a grin crept onto his face, "How'd you even get in this place?"

Giving him a confused look Steve turned back and asked, "What do you mean?"

Bucky huffed out a laugh before answering, "No offense, but you look 14."

Steve frowned at that, shooting a glare at the brunet. "Excuse you, I'm 22 thank you very much," he replied, rolling his eyes, before taking a sip of his drink.

Bucky gaped at him, clearly shocked by that answer, "Ain't no way you're 22, you look half that."

Silently, Steve pulled out his ID and flashed it to Bucky. Letting him see that (if the information was correct) the blonde was indeed 22 years old.

"Damn, you really don't look it," Bucky said, watching as the blonde put his ID away.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Steve mumbled quietly, "So, why're you here?" He decided to ask. The question left his mouth without thinking, catching himself a bit off guard. He's not supposed to be conversating with the guy, why the Hell did he ask that?!

"Eh, just trying to find someone," Bucky replied, taking a quick glance around the room, "but no one here is really worth the trouble; _way too boney_ ," he mumbled quietly, a small pout forming on his lips.

Anyone else would've taken that a very different way, but Steve knew that wasn't the case. Just from their one meeting he knew what Bucky did with the people he brought to that shithole of a house. Because he himself did the same.

Wait, was it still awful or did he listen and clean up a bit?

Steve decided to ask the brunette, not really knowing how else to continue the conversation he accidentally started, "Have you been keeping it tidy?"

Bucky gave him a confused look (something Steve is already realizing he does a lot) so the smaller quickly added, "Your place. I told you to clean it, remember?"

"Oh, right!" Bucky said, perplexed look going away. "Yeah, I tried to, but I suck at cleaning," he groaned, "And it's _so annoying_ to do all the time!"

A tiny, barely noticeable smile made its way to Steve's lips. Bucky had actually cleaned which surprised the blonde, to say the least. He expected the other to simply say 'to Hell with it' and not do it seeing as they were strangers.

Steve doesn't really know why he's smiling at that, nor does he think he should be, and quickly replaces it with his usual empty expression.

Maybe it was because someone actually listened to what he said for once? Maybe that's what made a sprinkle of happiness- possibly smugness- settle within him. He's never had someone listen to him; no one ever took him serious enough, mainly because of his not so intimidating appearance.

Steve's always had a list of things wrong with him, both physically (and mentally now). Hell, a cold would have him bed-ridden half the time. Any semi-serious sickness left a good chance for hospitalization and possibly death if not treated properly, depending on the illness. This led to everyone always babying him, being so careful with him like he was a tap away from shattering. And Steve _hated_ it, he truly did.

The many health problems also kept him from getting any real body mass so he's always been tinier than the average man. But why did that matter? He was still a person and deserved some respect, to be treated properly, not to be babied all the damn time and dealt with like a breeze could snap him in two.

That's one of the things that got Steve where he is now; manipulating the idiots who saw him as vulnerable or weak. He may not be the best physically, but he could outsmart anyone he came in contact with.

It was the only way he's ever had control over a situation; he had some form of power when he did this. And he loved finally having that power, that moment where what he thought actually mattered. He had the ability to manipulate the entire thing however he wished, and he was damn good at it.

 

There still wasn't anyone good showing up to the bar so Steve decided to continue chatting with Bucky. He came all the way out here, might as well talk and have a few drinks.

  
It had been better than he initially thought, talking to Bucky. The blonde figured it'd be about as boring and draining as when he had to talk up some stranger. But surprisingly, it had been kind of enjoyable in a way, though he would never admit that to anyone. He barely wanted to admit it to himself.

He didn't have to think as much; could talk a bit more freely since this wasn't a mission, if you will. Steve hasn't talked like this with anyone in a while.

He hasn't really spoken to anyone in general for a while now, aside from targets.

Bucky had also enjoyed talking with the smaller. It was nice, he didn't have to try and charm him or any of that since Steve wasn't his next meal. He could just talk to the other and not worry about failing or screwing up.

Bucky didn't really have friends (he possibly has one, but isn't certain), so talking like this was somewhat a new experience for him; one that he quite liked. It was nice to just talk about anything, even his 'hobby' as he liked to call it.

Yeah, talking about said hobby in a bar might not be the greatest idea, but everyone was basically shitfaced and they were careful of their word choice. They made it sound more like they were talking about cattle or something, which is basically what they considered their targets so it wasn't too far off.

  
Somewhere along their chat Steve had gotten on the topic of needing more supplies. Bucky perked up at that, an idea popping in his head.

"I know a guy that could get you stuff, if you want," Bucky offered, smiling over at the blonde.

Steve gave a skeptical look as he spoke, "You do, huh?"

Bucky nodded before leaning his head on the counter, feeling a small buzz from the drinks. "Mhm, my friend- well, sort of a friend, I guess- anyways, he always has that stuff. I'm sure I could get some for ya."

"How much?" Steve asked.

"What?"

"To get the stuff. How much would it cost?"

The brunette let out a chuckle, lifting his head to prop it on his hand, "Who said you had to pay?"

With a roll of his eyes, Steve spoke, "Well, I know I ain't gettin' it for free."

Bucky was silent a moment, lips pursed as he thought. Those grey eyes shooting back up to Steve once he gets an idea. "How about instead of paying with money you pay in something else?"

The blonde's brows knitted, giving the other a strange look as he hesitantly asked, "How else would I pay then?"

"Since I don't want your money and my friend doesn't really need it," Bucky started, "you just give me a bit of your kills in exchange for supplies? Seems pretty fair, I think."

"So if I give you a portion of the meat," Steve began, keeping his voice low, "you'll give me what I need?"

Bucky gave a nod, mouth twisting into a grin, "We got a deal, punk?"

Steve thought it over, figuring out the pros and cons.

If he agreed he'd get free supplies, have more storage in the freezer, possibly gain an ally. It would give him a slight upper hand in the situation.

If he didn't agree he'd have to try and find supplies elsewhere (which wasn't easy), would also have to waste money on said supplies. Hell, Bucky might break the promise and out him if he denies this.

Done thinking it over, Steve raised his hand, mumbling a quick 'deal'.

Bucky took the blonde's hand, giving it a quick shake as his grin grew wider, showing his sharp canines. He almost looked mental with that grin- that's quite fitting, though, isn't it?

  
The two talked a while longer, discussing their newly made deal and rambling about little things afterwards.

Steve pulled his phone out to check the time, seeing it was a quarter till 11pm. "Damn, it's getting late," he mumbled, setting the device on the counter, thin hand still holding onto it protectively.

Curiously, Bucky also checked his phone, only now realizing how long he'd been here.

"I need to head out soon, it's like twenty minutes to get home," the brunette muttered, more to himself than to Steve.

"Isn't your house nearby, though?" Steve questioned, remembering vaguely where Bucky's place was.

Bucky huffed out a laugh, sheepish smile appearing, "Yeah, but I kinda walked here so..."

Steve hummed in response, face neutral as he finished off his drink and turned to look at the other. "Do ya have any of that stuff at your place?" He asked, hoping Bucky would know what he meant by 'stuff'.

Giving a curious look, Bucky replied, "I think so, why?"

"I'll give you a ride home if you have anything I can get now," the younger explained.

Bucky thought for a moment to see if he remembered for sure having any. He was fairly certain he had some left from when Frank last stopped by.

God, how long ago was that? Two months? Maybe three- Wait, not the time, damnit. Stay on track, Barnes.

Bucky agreed to Steve's offer. The two stood up and made their way out the bar, Steve overhearing a few people's comments about the brunette. Men and women alike murmuring to their friends about how attractive Bucky was; how soft his short, dark locks looked, how cute his face was, how good his clothes fit on his well-built body, how just perfect everything about him was.

Their comments made Steve scowl as his pace speeded up, not wanting to hear them anymore. It always pissed him off hearing other men get compliments, no matter how stupid and childish it was. Why did people only focus on a manly type of guy? What was wrong with not being the usual big and masculine type?

Steve basically stomped to his car, only remembering about half way there Bucky was supposed to be following him. He stopped, turning to check if the other was caught up. Thankfully, the brunette was running over to meet Steve, a smile on his lips.

He almost looked like a puppy running back to its owner in a way. Steve laughed to himself at the thought.

Steve waited till Bucky was close before he continued to his car, the older now walking next to him as he did.

They hopped in. Steve started the car and left the bar, now heading to Bucky's home.

 

When they made it there Steve parked his car, deciding to get out and make sure the other was actually going to fulfill his offer.

They walked in and Steve instantly noticed a difference from his first time here.

It wasn't perfect, but it was a decent enough improvement.

The place actually smelt nice, there were far less stains than before (but still a few Bucky was most likely unable to get out), a couple bits of clothing still remained around the area, but nowhere near as bad as before.

"Wow, you really did clean," the blonde mumbled as he scanned the room.

"I said I did, didn't I?" Bucky responded as he walked into the kitchen and began rummaging around. "Thought I was lying?"

"A little, actually," Steve replied.

"Why the Hell would I lie about that?" Bucky questioned as he came back holding a small bag.

"Your entire way of getting food deals with lying," the younger spoke, "Don't you think I have a reason to be skeptical?"

"Fair enough, I guess," Bucky responded as he handed Steve the bag.

Steve opened it to take a quick peek at the items inside, and sure enough, it was what he'd asked for on the way there. The blonde loosely tied the bag as he said a simple, 'thank you' to the other and began walking to the door.

"Oh, wait a sec!" Bucky chirped up, making the other hault and turn around, looking at him expectantly.

"Uhm, it would make our transactions a bit easier if I could uh contact you, don't you think?"

"That's true, I suppose," Steve said, walking back to the older. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his grey jeans and handed it over to Bucky.

Bucky quickly typed in his number before handing the device back.

Steve did the same, putting his number in Bucky's phone. Once the smaller handed it over, he grabbed the bag once more and made his way out the home and back into the car. Carefully, he set the bag on the passenger seat and buckled up before starting up the engine and beginning the drive home.


	3. Chapter Three

"Thank you so much for your help, sir," Bucky said as he limped along, arm slung around the man's shoulders to help support himself.

The man turned his head and offered a smile. "Oh, no worries at all! I'm glad to help you out."

The brunette chuckled, ducking his head to hide a massive grin creeping onto his face as they continued walking towards his house.

When the two reached his place the man generously helped Bucky up the old, rickety steps and inside the house. He noticed a look of judgement flash across the other's face as they entered, could feel his shoulders tense up. Bucky wasn't all that surprised by the reaction, his place wasn't the nicest even after all the cleaning he's done; it's just so old at this point and there's only so much he could do about the countless stains and worn furniture.

"Again, thank you for the help," the brunette said once again as he was helped to the couch.

"No problem, I don't mind," his voice sounded a bit nervous now, obviously not feeling the most comfortable within Bucky's home.

"You wanna rest for a minute? We did walk quite a good ways," Bucky offered, patting the spot next to him.

The man hesitantly accepted his offer and took a seat on the couch, the springs creaking as he did.

"You want some water or anything," Bucky asked, standing up and walking towards the kitchen after the man nodded yes.

He came back with a glass of water and handed it to the other who was currently giving him a confused frown.

Confused at his expression Bucky asked, "Something wrong?"

"Your not limping anymore..." he pointed out, looking the brunette over as he set the glass down.

"Oh, yeah," Bucky let out a low chuckle, "forgot about that, sorry."

"Wait, you lied about it?!" The man stood up, confusion turning to annoyance, anger shooting through his body.

"Can you chill out with the yelling, please," Bucky asked, walking over to his door and locking it. He turned around and made his way back towards the stranger who began to slowly back away, anger mixing with fear the closer he got.

That look made Bucky's mouth tug into a cheshire cat level grin. He knows he looked absolutely insane with the ear to ear smile-not like that was too far off- and he loved that.

The man's eyes flickered between Bucky and the door before he leaped forward to try and sprint passed him. Sadly, that was a mistake because Bucky could see that idea coming a mile away with how he kept looking past him. The poor guy didn't even make it two feet passed Bucky before his shirt was grabbed and he was yanked back, getting roughly pushed to the ground after.

The brunette was now on top of him, holding him down with a metal hand around his throat, an insane grin on his face as he quietly laughed to himself. Slowly, he tightened his grip, watching as the fear became more evident on the other's face. His hands flew up to try and pry Bucky's own off his throat.

He stared down at the other, laughter growing louder as he leaned in closer to the man's face, "Oh, what a mistake that was," Bucky told him, voice lower than usual, "your little stunt just costed you the joy of dying beforehand."

Feeling the man begin to try and kick, Bucky moved his legs to pin the flailing limbs down. He choked out something Bucky couldn't understand, not that he really care enough to try and listen anyways. The brunette tightened his hand around the man's throat even more, making sure it still wasn't enough to snap it, moving his face to the crook of his neck.

Bucky licked his lips before latching his teeth on the man's neck, biting hard enough to break the skin. He quickly used his free hand to cover the man's mouth to muffle any screams he let out, biting even harder and pulling away hard, ripping a chunk of meat off the other. He let out a pleased sigh as he chewed it, enjoying the amazing taste of the blood and flesh.

 

He continued biting off random bits of the other, keeping his voice muffled and spasming body pinned, until he eventually died from the lack of oxygen and blood loss.

With the body no longer struggling, Bucky continued eating, using his hands to rip apart the body beneath him.

As wrong as this was, Bucky didn't care. He may be doing something bad, but the guy wasn't a saint either. The brunette didn't just let himself go off the rails like this with innocent people. No, only when they were truly horrid would he get this way. Bucky knew quite a bit about him. He had heard things. Had heard what a bastard man he was, abusing women and forcing himself on them. It disgusted him. Yeah, Bucky may be the one ripping him apart, but did this guy really deserve to live anyhow? Did he deserve a nice death?

 

He had gotten through both arms and about half the torso before deciding it was enough. The brunette stood, now a bloody mess, a pleased grin stretched across his face as he looked down at the half eaten corpse sprawled in front of him. Laughing quietly, Bucky picked up the body and wandered into the kitchen, throwing it onto the table like usual. Screw what Steve said about that. He needed to put it somewhere, right?

Bucky then grabbed some wash cloths and a handful of different cleaning products before making his way back to the living room. He knelt in front of the newly made stains and began scrubbing them clean, not wanting them to set in.

He realized how much nicer it smelt when there wasn't old blood and rotting bits of flesh and meat left around the place. And he had worked way too hard to keep it clean in here damnit, there's no point in stopping now.

Once that was cleaned up, he put away the cleaning products and tossed the dirty wash cloths in the laundry bin before making his way to the bathroom.

The second Bucky shut the door, he yanked off his blood covered clothes, tossing them on the ground as he made his way into the shower. Turning it to his preferred temperature, he sighed happily as the warm water hit his skin. Bucky decided to make his shower fast, hurriedly washing away the blood and sweat covering his body, giving his hair a quick clean instead of his usual wash, rinse, repeat cycle. When he was done, he hopped out the shower and grabbed a towel to dry off with.

Now dry, he tossed the towel on the floor next to the bloody clothes and walked to his room to find something to change into.

Bucky just threw on the first things he pulled out the drawers; black boxers, a white undershirt (that totally had no tears anywhere), and a pair of grey joggers.

He went to grab his phone and wallet from the other room before returning back to the bedroom, setting them on his nightstand. He opened one of the drawers and pulled out a knife and holster out, strapping it to his left leg, before crawling into bed. He pulled the blanket all the way up to his chin, nuzzling his face into the pillow as he waited for sleep to take him, a satisfied smile still set on his face.

* * *

Bucky woke up the next day around noon. He sat up, popping his neck and arms as a yawned. The brunette stood, cracking his back and fixing his shirt as he walked out his room.

The brunette wandered into th bathroom and tiredly brushed his teeth, leaning down to the faucet to rinse his mouth out. After that he picked up his clothes from last night and tossed them in the laundry, before padding into the kitchen. Going to the cabinet, Bucky looked around till his eyes found the coffee mix. He grabbed it and walked over to the coffee maker, pouring some inside before adding some water and turning on the machine.

While the coffee was brewing Bucky decided to do something with the body still sprawled out on the table. He couldn't just leave it there to waste away, it was actual Hell to get that guy here.

The brunette grabbed a knife before walking up to the body and beginning to cut the meat off as best he could in his half awake state.

He had gotten most of the left over torso and one leg done before his stomach began to rumble, making him decide that was enough for now.

Bucky tossed the bits of meat into a large black bowl, setting it on the counter next to the stove, not even bothering to clean the mess right now. He was too tired for cleaning.

Despite how hungry the man was, he still decided to cook the meat before eating. It wasn't often he cooked it, but he enjoyed doing it every now and then. Maybe later he'd try and find another recipe idea to add to the book.

Bucky pulled out some old skillet he's had for ages and set it on the stove. He oiled the pan before turning on the stove and throwing in some of the bigger pieces.

While the meat was cooking, he decided to fix himself a cup of coffee. Not even bothering for a mug, Bucky sprinkled some sugar and creamer into the coffee pot, swirling it around for a minute, before taking a big gulp.

He walked back to the stove, coffee pot in hand, and continued cooking, snacking on the smaller raw bits in the bowl as he did so.

  
When a decent amount of the meat was cooked Bucky pulled out a plate to set the pieces on. He took the plate and coffee pot he was still drinking from and made his way to the living room where he plopped down onto his old couch. Setting the plate and coffee pot onto the small table in front of him, Bucky reached for his remote and turned on the TV. It's not that he really wanted to watch anything, he just didn't like the dead silence.

  
After finishing his snack, Bucky got up and brought his dishes to the sink before going to get dressed. He needed to head to the shop and get a few things.

Once Bucky was dressed, now wearing an army green long sleeve and a pair of black jeans, he grabbed his phone, keys, and wallet before making his way out the house and climbing on his motorcycle.

* * *

Bucky drove to a nearby store, one he usually never went to, parking his bike near the entrance. He hopped off and walked into the shop. A woman working greeted him with a quick 'good morning' which he said right back to her as he picked up a basket and headed off to search the aisles.

  
Okay, so maybe going to a shop he'd never stepped foot in wasn't the best idea, even if it was because it was closer.

Bucky didn't know where shit was in here.

So now he's wandering around like a lost toddler, probably looking like an idiot judging by the way he's getting stared at.

  
Bucky groaned in annoyance as he went all over the store, only having half of what he needed. And to make matters worse he couldn't even stay focused on the shopping. He keeps getting distracted by the people around him. The brunette didn't go out much unless it was for people so shopping was now a continuous struggle, but it really wasn't his fault. There was always just so many people that would make a great fucking meal wandering around within an arms reach, completely unaware of what he could do. It was like putting a bowl of food in front of a starving dog and commanding it not to eat.

While Bucky was busy staring at strangers passing by he didn't even notice the one hr was about to run in to, only realizing it as he collided with them, knocking the person to the floor.

Feeling the impact of hitting them, his head snapped forward, "Shit, I'm sor-" Bucky cut himself off when his eyes landed on the one he ran into.

It was that familiar little blonde once again.

Steve pushed himself off the ground and turned to look at the other, face blank of any expression other than a tiny hint of confusion if you squint.

"What the Hell are you doing here?"

"Uhm...shopping," Bucky said, sounding more like a question, holding the semi full basket up in front of him.

"Yeah, but why here?" Steve questioned. "I've never seen you come in here and I've been working here a while now."

"It's closer than my usual stop." The brunette shrugged. "There a problem with it," he added with a small grin. Not like the guy could do anything about him shopping here, anyways.

The blonde shook his head as he stood, adjusting his clothes, "No, just wondering why I'm suddenly running into you all the time."

"Ain't doing it on purpose," Bucky replied.

"Really seems like you a-"

"Steve, what the Hell are you doing?!" Both men turned their heads towards the direction of the voice to see a fiery red head stomping towards them.

"You're supposed to be stocking, not talking up strangers" she said, looking Bucky up and down. "No matter how damn attractive they are," she added quietly.

"Wasn't talking up anyone, Nat," Steve told her. "He just ran into me, is all. And he isn't worth it, anyways. I have some standards," he added.

"You were fine with chatting the other night," Bucky muttered, more to himself than anything.

"Oh? Last night huh?" Natasha asked as a smirk made its way onto her lips. "So it's like that then? Damn, Rogers, you don't have to lie about that stuff."

"It ain't like whatever you're thinking over there," the blonde told her, a sudden feeling of nervousness hitting him, "just ran into him the other day and ended up chatting a bit."

"Mhm sure, Steve," Nat said before walking off, leaving the two alone again.

"Well, I have to get back to work," Steve told the brunette as he started picking up the items he'd dropped when he fell.

"Yeah, got it. See ya later, Stevie," Bucky said before walking off to continue his shopping, chuckling at the annoyed grumble of 'don't call me that' from the blonde.

  
Bucky finished getting what he needed and went to check out, internally screeching when the lady working at the reguster started getting a little too friendly with him.

He should probably find it flattering, but constantly getting hit on by random women was just annoying at this point.

One, Bucky didn't do the whole 'love'thing. He didn't really ever feel that type of love, if he was being honest.

And two, every girl just liked him for his looks and that just rubbed him the wrong way. He had grown up learning to judge people by who they were, not what they looked like. And when all these women were looking for a quick fuck because he was attractive it pissed him off. If they knew what he did they'd be gone in an instant. If they were too persistent, though, they _would_ find out. Normally, Bucky wouldn't go for innocent people, but sometimes it just pissed him off so bad he would throw that idea out the window and just go for it.

 

So after the awkward flirting Bucky quickly made his way out the store and headed back home. The thought to start going to that shop rather than his old one crossed his mind along the way. Call him a prick, but he wanted to bug steve more. The blonde was just so interesting to him.

* * *

 

"So, gonna tell me about him?"

Steve, who was sat in the faculty room, looked behind him to see Natasha walking up.

"Tell ya about who?" He asked.

"About the hot guy you were talking with earlier, duh," Nat replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What's there to tell? He's just some guy I ran into," Steve explained, pulling out his phone. He really didn't want to talk about this, especially with Natasha.

"So, you don't have an interest in him?"

"No, Nat, I don't have an interest in him," he sighed, "or anyone else, for that matter."

She gave a small nod in understanding. "Do you know if he's single?" The red head suddenly asked.

Steve gave her a confused look, brows knitted. "How should I know? I just had a few drinks with the guy, didn't ask for his life story." His brain began drifting to the thought of Bucky with someone. It gave him a weird feeling, made something uncomfortable settle in his stomach, but he didn't know why. It shouldn't matter, right? They just have a deal to benefit each other, that's it. Other than that Bucky Barnes is not important in his life... so why does the idea of him being with somebody make Steve feel so bad?

Thankfully, Natasha cut off his thoughts before he could jump down that confusing mess of a rabbit hole. "Hey, you said you didn't do that crap! That's why you always say no when I ask to hang out!" She looked at him with a glare.

The blonde sighed in annoyance, slouching further into his seat, "On rare occasions I do, okay?"

That's not necessarily a lie, but it isn't entirely true.

"You have to go out with me for drinks at least once! Pretty please? Hell, I'll pay if you want," She begged him, showing the best puppy eyes she could muster up.

"If I agree will you stop bugging me about it?"

Natasha nodded her head excitedly, red hair bobbing around at the movement.

"Okay, fine I'll go out for drinks," Steve sighed.

"Hell yes!" Natasha shouted in a happy tone. "Oh, you could invite your friend if you want," she added.

The blonde rolled his eyes at them being called 'friends'. He just let it slide and nodded, not feeling like correcting it again. It wasn't like she would fix it anyways.

 

Steve scrolled through his contacts, hesitating a moment before clicking on Bucky's name to send him a quick text about the newly made plans.

**To B: I'm getting forced to go out for drink and you're coming with**

_From B: Wait i don't get a say in going or not??_

**To B: Come with me and I'll give you food afterwards**

Steve had plenty to give away so it didn't matter too much.

_From B: fine it's a deal_

Steve internally groaned as he put his phone away, running a hand over his face. The day wasn't even half way over and he was already feeling exhausted.

 

Tonight's gonna be _Hell_.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so so very sorry for the lack of updates!! Life has been incredibly hectic lately and I've been real drained mentally. But I'm forcing myself to get back into writing so hopefully chapters will come a bit sooner!!!

_"You have to go out with me for drinks at least once! Pretty please? Hell, I'll pay if you want," She begged him, showing the best puppy eyes she could muster up._

_"If I agree will you stop bugging me about it?"_

_Natasha nodded her head excitedly, red hair bobbing around at the movement._

_"Okay, fine I'll go," Steve sighed._

×××

And that is how Steve ended up here; sat in some random club that reeked of so many different scents- some he didn't want to even think about- with tons of people screaming and dancing and drinking. Natasha and Bucky laughing as he chugged down any type of alcohol he could get his tiny hands on despite hating the flavor of it all. Oh well, a nasty taste is better than having to sit here in this living nightmare completely sober. He didn't want to remember a single second of this night tomorrow.

 

"I think you might want to slow down on those, Rogers," Natasha said, watching as the blonde drank another shot. "You're going to regret it later." Steve just waved a hand dismissively at her, moving his head to lay against the bar counter. Bucky and Natasha stared at the younger in amusement. Never in the time either has known Steve have they seen him with even the slightest change in expression or mood (aside from Bucky's first experience with him). Now, they're seeing him drunk off his ass in a night club.

And Lord, was it a sight to behold.

 

 

  
Another hour had passed and Nat was somehow worse off than Steve. Bucky chose to keep it light on the drinking considering how bad the two were.

 

Steve glances over to see a wasted Nat looking like she is about to explode from the laugh she's obviously trying to hold back while watching some girl's horrid attempt at dancing. His eyes shifted to Bucky who was looking at him with this.... was it affection? No, no that can't be right. It's probably amusement, if anything. Yeah, that's it.

 

"The fuck's with you?" Steve pointed at Natasha who nearly doubled over in laughter, near wheezing, in her drunken state. She stuttered out a quick "I'll be right back," between giggles before hopping up and disappearing somewhere within the sea of people.

The blonde sighed and swallowed down his shot, slamming the glass on the counter. The bartender walked up to ask if he wanted another, but before Steve could reply Bucky was interjecting. "Nah, he's done for the night," he said, earning a glare from the smaller.

"But I wan-"

"Nope, it ain't happening, Stevie. You've had enough," Bucky interrupted once more. "I doubt you could even make it to the damn bathroom in this state." The younger man grumbled out something Bucky couldn't quite make out as he crossed his arms, a childish pout taking the place of his glare.

 

  
Bucky felt a small tap on his shoulder and turned around. He was met with a slightly older looking blonde man holding onto Natasha, who looked about ready to pass out, a tattooed arm wrapped tightly around her waist to keep her upright. "Hey, I'm Clint. Nat said she came here with y'all and I just wanted to tell you guys I was bringing her to her place," he informed the two, leaving when Bucky gave a small nod along with a simple, "Thank you."

 

"Think it's time we get you home, too, pal." The brunette stood up, paying for both his and Steve's drinks, before grabbing the blonde and dragging him out the club. He had to stop halfway through the building, though, to pick up his wasted ass and carry him since he kept staggering and falling.

With a dozen eyes piercing him like bullets, he made his way out the building and to the motorcycle, carefully getting Steve down from over his shoulder and onto his bike. Seeing the smaller unable to sit upright, Bucky sighed and maneuvered them to where he was in the driver's spot with Steve sat on his lap facing him. Now situated, he turned on the engine and started the quick drive home.

 

  
Somewhere during the ride Steve's arms had made their way around Bucky's neck and his face nuzzling into his chest, legs lazily wrapped around the brunette's waist. It was strange, really. Bucky didn't normally enjoy so much physical contact, but he didn't mind this. He actually... kind of liked it.

_Is this- am I feeling an emotion right now? A good emotion? Is that what this is? From something normal?_

 

  
When they reached his home the older tried to wake Steve, get him to move off, but had no luck. All it did was cause his grip to tighten as a sleepy whine left him.

Damn, he's so much softer when he's drunk.

With no other ideas, Bucky slid his hands beneath the blonde's thighs and lifted him up as he stood, trying his best to not fall on his ass getting off the bike.

He made his way inside, pushing the door shut with his foot, and walking to his room where he gently placed Steve on the bed. No way in Hell was Bucky going to make him sleep on that old sofa; poor guy is already going to wake up feeling horrible after how much he drank.

Wait, why does he care? Steve being in pain doesn't affect him at all. His discomfort shouldn't matter, he did this to himself.

  
And yet here Bucky is, setting the blonde down on his own bed with much more care than he normally used for _anything_ , even covering Steve up with a second blanket because he had been shivering since they left the club.

He watched as Steve's arms wound around one of Bucky's pillows, pink-dusted cheek nuzzling into it. Without realizing, Bucky let a soft smile stretch across his face at the sight, a tiny voice in the back of his head yet again whispering of emotions he chose not to acknowledge. He _couldn't_ acknowledge.

Sighing, he dropped to the floor, propping himself up against the bedframe. The brunette gave his pocket a quick pat to check his knife was still on him before shutting his eyes as he leant his head back, planning to only rest his eyes, but eventually was overcome by sleep.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Steve woke up to his head pounding and his stomach aching, heavy eyes blinking open to see a room he didn't recognize. Worry instantly spiked through him once noticing the unfamiliar room. He shot up out the bed, ready to run out, but tripped over something and fell flat on his face.

Groaning, Steve moved to push himself up, but was forcefully shoved back down, body getting pinned to the hardwood floor, arms being yanked behind the back as someone climbed on top of him. Within a second a blade was being pressed against his neck. His breath hitched as he felt the cold metal touching his skin, a small shudder running up his spine as a feeling he couldn't quite explain buzzed through him.

 

Thankfully, te blade soon left, the grip on his arms loosening as well. "Steve?"

  
_Of fucking course_ that's where he was.

  
"Yes, now get off me, damnit. My arm is cramping up," Steve complained.

The brunette apologized as he let go of the smaller, getting off and helping him up. "It's not entirely my fault. You're the one who scared me."

"Well, you're the one who was sleeping on the floor." Steve felt his headache worsen when he snapped back. He rubbed his temples as a pained noise left him. "Do you have any ibuprofen?"

Bucky thought a moment before walking out the room. He came back with a medicine bottle and a cup of water in hand.

He handed them off to Steve who eyed them skeptically.

"What?"

Steve pushed the cup towards Bucky. "Drink it," he demanded.

The older sighed, though a smile played on his lips, as he grabbed the glass back and took a sip. "There, happy now?"

Shaking his head Steve also shoved the medicine into his free hand. Bucky stared at him in disbelief. "Do you seriously not trust me that much?"

Steve gave a nod and waved his hand at the bottle, telling Bucky to hurry it up.

He chuckled quietly, finding amusement in Steve's miniscule faith in him. In a way he quite liked the blonde's skeptical ways; Steve had gotten under his skin and Bucky was growing protective of the younger. That was a main reason he freaked this morning, because he knew Steve was here with him. He didn't want someone to hurt Steve. Yeah, the guy could smart his way out of things, but he's so tiny and Bucky just can't help wanting to keep him safe.

But he can't tell Steve that. He knows by now that the blonde doesn't like being looked down on and he would definitely take it that way.

  
Bucky quickly popped one of the pills in his mouth, opening it to show Steve he did in fact swallow it. He knew the blonde was going to ask.

Deciding it was okay, Steve snatched the bottle back and took one. He made a grabby hand motion at the cup and Bucky handed it over, smiling at the smaller's childish gesture.

 

"You want anything for breakfast, by the way?"

"Sure," the blonde answered.

Steve followed Bucky out the room and into the kitchen. He sat down at the surprisingly clean table while Bucky made his way to the cabinets.

"What d'ya want, Stevie," he questioned.

"Don't call me that," he grumbled. "And are waffles an option?"

 

* * *

 

"Why were you on the floor," Steve asked as Bucky brought over the freshly made waffles.

"You were in the bed, so..." Bucky trailed off, shrugging.

"And why was that, by the way?"

As he was getting a drink, Bucky told Steve about how wasted he had gotten, saying that's why he took him home.

"Well, I don't remember a thing so I consider last night a success."

"You still weren't as bad as that redhead," Bucky chuckled as he walked to the table. "I'm pissed you left me sober with her, though. Damn girl kept bugging me 'bout my love life."

Steve felt a pang of annoyance hit him. Same one that did when Natasha had asked him about if Bucky was seeing somebody. Same feel from when those people were staring at the brunette when they left the bar- how does he even remember that? It was months ago by now, held no real value. So why did it stick with him?

 

The rest of breakfast was quiet, Bucky genuinely enjoying the new bit of company. He doesn't get any visitors aside from the occasional day where Frank drops by to check in, maybe give him a new book or something like that.

  
Steve surprisingly didn't mind this as much as he initially thought he would. He liked personal space and to be alone, but there was something comforting about the current atmosphere. It had been quite a while since he'd done something that felt so normal. So domestic and natural. Reminds him of the days when he was younger and he would eat breakfast with his ma and how wonderful it felt-

_Wait a damn minute._

_Stop that. This isn't supposed to be nice. You're in some random guy's place. A **cannibal's** place._

_Well, he isn't much of a stranger anymore, is he? And is it that wrong to like a bit of company after so long? Even if it's from someone not-so-normal_ (especially when Steve wasn't normal himself)

_Yes, yes it is. You don't need this. You don't need people. It's safer to be secluded, isn't it? And those sweet moments are gone. She's gone. You don't need that anymore._

_That's true...._

 

Steve drifted out his thoughts for a moment to glance up and look at Bucky from across the table. The brunette noticed him and shot a quick smile. That warm, fuzzy feeling of comfort seeping back into Steve.

 

 

  
What's the harm in letting one person get a little close?

 

* * *

 

"Barnes, I got a question."

Bucky looked up from the astrology book he was reading. "Whatcha need, Stevie?"

"For the fifth time today: don't call me that. And I was wondering if you could bring me to get my car."

Oh yeah, they left it at the bar.

"Yeah, sure. Ready to head home already?"

Steve gave a nod. "I need to change. I feel disgusting." Steve cringed at the thought of still being in the dirty clothing that reeked of booze and sweat. He had spent almost the entire day at Bucky's, which turned out much nicer than he had planned. They watched a few shows, Steve took a nap, Bucky made them lunch (which Steve was worried about at first).

It was just... a nice experience that neither had had in a long time.

 

  
Bucky grabbed his keys and both boys made their way out, locking the door.

"Keep your grip a little looser this time, please," Bucky teased as the got on his motorcycle.

Noticing Steve's confused expression, Bucky shook his head, telling him a quick, "nevermind," before starting up the engine and pulling off onto the road.

  
The drive was fast, taking only about 5 minutes with the way Bucky was zooming down the street. _Does he know what a damn speed limit is? Or that helmets exist?! How has he not been pulled over yet??!_

 

Once they reached the parking lot Steve hopped off, thankful to be on the safe ground once again.

"Thanks for the Hellish drive here."

"No problem, Rogers." Bucky chose to ignore the 'subtle' complaint on his driving. Nothing wrong with a rough ride here and there, yeah? At least in Bucky's mind.

"Oh, and thanks for the breakfast," he added with a barely noticeable smile.

  
The blonde unlocked his car and stepped in, Bucky giving a small wave before he drove off.


End file.
